Words
by blue peanut m and m
Summary: A botched hunt leaves Dean hurt, and John lashing out with harsh words. But is everything as it seems. A gift for cindy123.
1. Chapter 1

**Words.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . A botched hunt results in harsh words, but is everything as it seems?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . There once were two boys called Sam and Dean**

**Who chased after monsters that were vicious and mean**

**I tried to obtain them**

**But Kripkie lay claim to 'em**

**And left me with nothing but a dream!**

**A.N. . . . . . . Okay so I promised Cindy123 a one shot of her choice if she would be kind enough to post another chapter of her amazing fic, The Apple Doesn't Fall Far, one was posted, so here's my response. Her wishes were for Sam to be hurt by actions of John, and or Dean; and for guilty angst John and Dean. I don't know whether I achieved what you wanted, but I hope I have? Peanut x**

"God damn it Sam! Will you get your ass in gear and get the damn door open?" John's words rang harsh in the otherwise still and silent night. He didn't bother looking his youngest son's way as he carried Dean's heavy weight towards the now opened rear door of the Impala, missing the look of sheer hurt that graced his child's features, and the sheen of sweat that covered his brow and upper lip, his focus solely on his eldest son; his eldest son who was unconscious and bleeding severely in his arms. He pushed Sam angrily away as he bent to place Dean in the back seat, only acknowledging him to bark yet more orders his way. "Make yourself useful and get the damn kit from the trunk, get a blanket too, and then climb in the other side, you'll have to watch him whilst I drive." John, his eyes never leaving his eldest son's face, paused before adding. "Make sure you do something right tonight boy! If your brother feels anymore pain tonight I'll. . . . . . . . . ." He let the words linger in the air, the rest unspoken, knowing that Sam would figure out the meaning.

Sam walked blindly, numbly towards the trunk, his mind confused, guilt riddled and torn, an agonizing pain flaring in his chest, radiating from his side with every step he took, a need for Dean burning deep within him, a need for Dean to take the pain away, to tell him everything would be okay; a need that he knew would not be forthcoming, because Dean was hurt bad, and Sam knew that his brother had been hurt because of his own stupid pettiness and anger. He winced, only just holding back a cry, as he raised the car's heavy trunk tears wetting his eyes, brimming the edges but refusing to fall as he fought to contain his emotions, he couldn't allow his father to see him this way, couldn't afford to anger the man even more, couldn't afford to feel sorry for himself, he was after all to blame, his father had said as much. He pressed a trembling hand to his side as pain erupted with each movement, his breathing turning to gasps as he struggled to overcome it, using techniques his father had instilled in them both. As he gained back control he grabbed the needed items and hurried back.

"It's about god damn time Sam!" John raged as he watched his son return, he ignored the paleness of his pallor, his small hidden gasps of pain and the way he favored his right side, as he ripped the needed items from his hands and turned his attention back towards his eldest boy, quickly patching up the gaping head wound, and the deep gash that rent it's way down his chest. His eyes never wavering from Dean, John barked orders yet again his youngest son's way. "Get in the car Sam!" He waited for the familiar screech of the Impala's old door to signal that it had been opened and then closed before shouting. "Hold these like this! Do not let go Sam! You've done enough damage tonight, make sure you at least get this one thing right!" Placing one last comforting hand on Dean's shoulder, John squeezed it before exiting the car and hastily making his way to the drivers side. Climbing in he gunned the engine, taking off for their latest motel room with a squeal of rubber and flying debris.

After a tiring journey, that in John's eyes was too long, the eldest Winchester finally pulled the big muscle car into the lot of The Sleep Inn motel, the latest flea infested pigsty of a home he had secured for his small family. Parking the car as close to their room as possible he climbed wearily out without glancing back at the two occupants of the back seat. Pulling open the door he bent at the waist to reach in and grab Dean, his mouth opening to rant yet again at his youngest, his anger rising as he spotted the youngster asleep, his body resting away from his brothers, his hands no longer holding the strips of material to Dean's chest. "For god sake Sam, can you not even get this one thing right, you truly are ungrateful, useless. Get in the room!" Not waiting to see if Sam obeyed him, knowing that his son wouldn't dare not too, he gently maneuvered Dean around before placing one of his son's arms around his neck and lifting him, his own arm placed under his knees. He waited whilst he got steady before hurrying for the room.

Placing Dean on the bed furthest from the door, John turned expecting his youngest to be standing shamefaced and guilt looking behind him, the first aid kit clutched in his hands, no doubt his eyes would be begging for forgiveness; forgiveness that John was unwilling to give. His ire rose and ignited when all he saw was the still open door rocking slightly in the night time breeze, no Sam in sight. Rising he aimed for the door, maddened at his youngest sons stupidity, he knew Dean needed help and yet he was dawdling along, no doubt moping too. His fury grew even further as he stopped on the threshold and Sam was still nowhere in sight. Looking over to the Impala, he could see the outline of his son's body still resting against the glass, his breath misting the cold transparent substance. "Sammy!" He bellowed, angered even more when his call was ignored. Rushing over, he yanked open the door, his fury raging before vanishing as his son's unconscious body toppled to the asphalt.

John fell to his knees, what the hell was wrong here? What had he missed? His trembling hands patted softly at Sam's cheeks, whispers of "come on son, wake up, come on Sammy." He moved his hands to ghost lightly over Sam's torso, finding nothing to indicate why his son was lying unresponsive on the cold, wet tarmac. As his hand passed over his son's side though, he received his first indication, his fingers crossing over a sticky wetness, his digits feeling Sam's life blood as it pumped from his body to trail slowly over them before continuing it's path to the ground where it began to pool around his body. "Oh shit! Sammy, I'm so sorry son, don't you leave us, I didn't mean what I said, please son." Picking up, with ease, his super skinny fourteen year old he rushed into the motel room, his need to bring Sam back so that he could apologize, clenching uncomfortably at his guts. He jumped slightly as he placed his youngest son on his side on the other bed, as Dean's groggy voice spoke up from the other side of the room.

"Dad? What happened? Where's Sam?"

"Nothing Dean, you just go back to sleep, get some rest." John replied, he should have known though that Dean wouldn't do as he asked, his eldest son's brotherly instinct kicking in when he failed to hear Sam's voice. As John removed Sam's numerous shirts, desperate to see what had ailed his son, he could hear the soft brush of denim against cotton as Dean heaved his aching body up off the bed. "Dean, stay there! I can't afford you both to be passing out from blood loss."

"Blood loss! What the hell happened? Why's Sam bleeding?"

"I don't know yet!" John ground out, guilt rising to replace the anger he had been feeling, how could he have missed this? But he knew how, he had spent most of the evening since the hunt had turned pear shaped blaming Sam for each and every thing that had gone wrong, and Sam had stubbornly stood there and took every hurt, every jibe he had thrown at him, never once complaining, never once fighting back, never once hinting at the hurt he had been feeling. John felt the bed sink next to him as he finally pulled away the last of the shirts from Sam's body, bile rising in his throat as the vision that befell them once he had done so, Dean gasping as he too saw the ugly gash that ran from Sam's hip to the middle of his ribs, and the broken off claw that protruded sickeningly from Sam's side. Without any further word both men struck into action, bottles and bandages, water and ointments, passing silently without instruction between the two as they worked together to fix Sam up, hoping that their motel room fix up wouldn't do more harm than good.

Morning was just breaking, casting the room with a light pink hue, as John emerged from the steam filled bathroom, his body now cleansed of both his son's blood. As he ran a hard towel across his gradually graying hair, he looked at the two sleeping occupants of the small living space, his eldest sleeping peacefully on his back, his fever riddled younger brother resting against his bandaged chest, Dean's arm wrapped protectively around him. Walking to the coffee pot, John poured himself a cup before going to sit at the worn vinyl covered table and chairs, his foot brushing against something that had been dropped on the floor. Placing his cup on the table he bent down and picked up the crumpled up ball of paper. Unraveling it he smoothed it out on the table top, guilt choking him as tears spilled over his lashes as he read the words written upon it in his youngest son's scrawl. Words that spoke of doubts Sam had about the hunt, researched words that had contradicted what John had thought was out there, words that had turned out to be true.

He remembered now, how Sam had tried to reason with him, how his son had tried to make him see what he had found, to see that this simple hunt was going to be anything but. He remembered how even after he had crumpled the paper into a ball and thrown it onto the dirty carpet, Sam had stood his ground insisting that they spend longer checking things out, that they research more; but John had ignored him, had shouted and raged about Sam being scared and weak, Dean even agreeing with him at one point. Seeing his brother, who more often than not would back him up, agree with his father had hurt Sam deeply, John could remember now seeing the flash of hurt register in Sam's mind before he closed his emotions of and turned into a stoic soldier. How could he have blamed Sam for everything that had gone wrong, when he had protested so strongly? John thought back to the hunt itself, remembering Sam taking on the beast after Dean had fallen, tackling it and placing it perfectly in line for John's kill shot; rather than praise his youngest though, as he would have done Dean, John had allowed his fears for Dean's health overtake him, barking orders and ranting abuse at his youngest, telling Sam how stupid, and thoughtless, and irresponsible he was.

God, how could he have messed up so badly? How could he treat his child so thoughtlessly? Sitting there, wallowing in guilt, he promised to whoever was listening to make it up to his baby, to put right all the wrongs he had thrown Sam's way, and to always listen to his son in future. As the room gradually turned lighter, he sat and waited; waited for the moment when he could begin to make amends.

**The End.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . So, Cindy was this okay for you? Thanks to everyone for reading, later dudes! Peanut x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Words.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . A botched hunt results in harsh words, but is everything as it seems?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . There once were two boys called Sam and Dean**

**Who chased after monsters that were vicious and mean**

**I tried to obtain them**

**But Kripkie lay claim to 'em**

**And left me with nothing but a dream!**

**A.N. . . . . . . . So I have to thank you all for such an amazing response to the first chapter of this fic, you reviews, hits, fav adds, and community adds really do mean a lot to me, in response to some of the reviews I have decided to add another chapter as so many of you requested one that focused on John's apology. Here it is and I hope that you enjoy! Peanut x**

John stayed seated, his eyes on constant vigil as both boys slept through the rest of the day, he briefly woke Dean every now and then to ease painkillers into his battered body, but no amount of coxing could awaken his youngest, and as the day wore on John's concern for his son increased to full blown panic. Should he have taken Sam straight to the hospital rather than make to with a fix up job in dirty run down motel? As the day turned to night he was beginning to believe so. He knew though that he couldn't have done so, knew that the risks of going to a medical facility were just as high. Running a hand across his face, he allowed his heavy head to rest in his palm as he thought once more of how he had failed his youngest yet again, how he had blamed him for something that wasn't his fault, how he had failed to see that Sam was hurt, instead adding his own wounds to that injury; wounds that he knew deep down would hurt Sam way more than any broken bone or cut he ever received. Why was he like this? He wasn't this way with Dean, why should he be with Sam? Although not as skilled as Dean when it came to hunting, John knew that given time he most certainly would be, and when it came to research John had only ever met one man who could beat Sam; a man his small family never saw anymore, yet another result of John's stubborn behavior, and his quick temper.

He sat straighter in his chair as soft moans emitted from the vicinity of the bed, his hopes rising thinking that maybe, finally Sam could be waking, only to be dashed when he realized it was in fact Dean; not that he didn't want Dean awake, it was just that Sam was too quiet, his usually restless, spread out like a row of cabbages body, so still and rigid. He rose and made his way over, helping Dean to maneuver himself from under Sam body, and positioning him so that his back was leaning against the headboard, before reaching for the glass of water he had stationed on the nightstand in preparation of the boys wakening. He waited as Dean took a mouthful then another, halting him as he went to drink more.

"Be careful son, you'll make yourself sick if you drink too fast, he allowed Dean one more sip before taking the glass back.

Dean looked down on his sleeping sibling, his own aches, pains and tiredness disappearing once more as concern and worry for Sam rose again. "Has he woken at all yet." Dean asked, yet already knowing the answer, there was after all no way Sam would have woken without his knowledge, at getting his fears answered he asked. "Do you think we should take him to the hospital?"

"You know we can't do that Dean. What about child services?"

"I know, but he's been asleep so long, what if he's. . . . . . . ."

"He'll be fine Dean." John replied to Dean's unspoken words. "His body is just mending itself. He'll wake up when he's ready." His heart broke as he listened to Dean's next whispered words, the mumbling barely audible.

"I just want to tell him I'm sorry."

"Me too son, me too." Both men fell silent then, both preparing for the vigil that was about to take place, both hoping that Sam would wake soon and they could start the long process of begging for forgiveness.

Dean was showering, a plastic bag taped over his wound, when Sam finally began showing signs of awakening, small mewls of pain escaping from him as his body remembered the punishment it had taken. Rinsing out a washcloth in cool water, John wiped away the moisture from his sons sweat soaked forehead, whilst whispering words of encouragement for the youngest member of his family to wake. He rubbed at the pain lines that marred Sam's face as the pain from his wound increase as awareness rose, finally John was rewarded as Sam's glazed and confused eyes opened, closing almost immediately as the lightness of the room assaulted his senses, highlighting the pounding in his head and sending waves of nausea rolling about his stomach.

John moved into action as he saw what little color Sam had drain from his face, grabbing the waste basket he placed it on the bed before helping Sam to rise so that he could hover above it. Tears of agony rolled down Sam's face as the heaves grew in intensity, pitiful sobs escaping between every round of sickness. John felt helpless as he watched his son suffer, relief washing over him as finally, spent and exhausted Sam collapsed back onto the bed, his heavy eyes struggling to stay open as his mouth tried to form words. Bending closer, John felt as though a knife had been plunged deep into his heart, as Sam stuttered out "I'm sorry, I messed up again" before his eyes started to close once more, his body trying desperately to drag him back under. John felt wetness dribble down his cheeks as he brushed errant strands of Sam's hair of his face and spoke words that he hoped Sam would hear, and more importantly believe.

"Oh son you have nothing to be sorry for, do you hear me, absolutely nothing. It was me that was the fool, I should have listened to you when you said things were wrong. I should have taken your research more seriously. I should have made sure that you were okay instead of ranting away at you like a lunatic. I'm so sorry Sam, please forgive me? I promise that I will always listen in future, I may still decide to go my way, but I promise I'll always take your advice into consideration." He looked down realizing he had ranted away, thinking that maybe Sam had fallen back under, surprised when tearful eyes looked back at him, tearful eyes that spoke of pain and exhaustion. "Go to sleep, baby boy. We can carry this on later, I promise."

He watched as for the first time in a long time Sam listened to and obeyed one of his orders a smile gracing his lips, for the first time since this nightmare had begun, as just when he thought Sam was asleep again John heard him whisper "Is D'n 'kay?" He bent down to place a kiss upon Sam's forehead as he answered, "He's fine son. Everyone's just fine." Feeling that now everyone was.

**A.N. . . . . . . Well I hope that was okay for you? Was the apology good enough? Thanks as always for reading, and look out for a new fic coming your way very soon, Oh and round two of the Winchester Single Shots! Catch you later, Peanut x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Words.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . A botched hunt results in harsh words, but is everything as it seems?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . There once were two boys called Sam and Dean**

**Who chased after monsters that were vicious and mean**

**I tried to obtain them**

**But Kripkie lay claim to 'em**

**And left me with nothing but a dream!**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . Hey! Yeah it's me, The Pea! I'm so sorry that you haven't heard that much from me recently but extra long hours at work, because of a major reno, have taken up all of my time. To make up for my lack of updates, and replies to all the amazing reviews, I decided to add another chapter to Words. I had a request for a Dean POV so here it is. Thanks to everyone for sticking with me, I hope that you all enjoy it, and I promise now that all the hoopla is over and done with, I'll get back to normal. Catch you soon, Peanut x**

A thick cloying blackness surrounded him, desperately trying to drag his battered, aching, tired body down into it's murky depths no matter how hard he tried to escape it's clutches. He wanted to let go, to surrender to the blissful pain free unconsciousness, yet something was holding him back. A voice. A voice that was barking out orders. Were they for him? Was he to respond? He forced his senses to open further, straining his mind in an attempt to make sense of the confusing sounds, wanting to process the jumbled litany of words into sentences he could understand; his wounds though were severe, the blood he had lost weakening him, his head injury wreaking havoc with him, allowing him to only catch brief snippets of what was being said.

"God damn it. . . . . . . . .make yourself useful. . . . . . . . .do something right. . . . . . . . . . . . .brother. . . . . . . . . . .pain." He fought even harder to awaken as he heard the words brother and pain, his mind processing those words and coming up with a multitude of scenarios that all involved Sammy being hurt, his inner big brother protectiveness kicking in full force, willing him to wake and make sure Sam was okay; that willingness faltering as he was dropped onto something soft, jostling his wounds and sending him further into the folds of darkness, the harsh voice of his father the last thing he remembered.

He clambered through the thick layers of consciousness, clawing at them as he frantically tried to drag his weary mind back to the here and now, a deep seated nagging eating away at him. Something was wrong. Something had aroused him, something that had captured his attention even in the deepest recesses of his mind. He succeeded in breaking free of the last vestiges the darkness had hold of him with, as muffled shouts and sounds drew his attention away. He struggled to open his eyes as the sounds got louder, the atmosphere around him changing from calm to panicked as the sounds gathered in strength and he felt someone enter the room with him. Finally achieving his goal, he waited for the room to stop spinning, for the blurry shapes to form, before turning his attention to the figure bent over the rooms only other bed, and the deathly still form that lay upon it.

"Dad? What happened? Where's Sam?" He groggily asked.

"Nothing Dean, you just go back to sleep, get some rest." He heard his father reply, the inner big brother churning with untold fears and growing in strength, as he heard the underlining fear his father had tried unsuccessfully to hide. Pushing aside his own aches, Dean started to rise swaying alarmingly as he did so, causing his father to look his way and speak words that sparked even more fears to pop up in Dean's mind.

"Dean, stay there! I can't afford you both to be passing out from blood loss."

"Blood loss! What the hell happened? Why's Sam bleeding?" He haltingly asked, not hearing his fathers response as he took in Sam's sickly pallor and sweat soaked face. He gasped loudly as their father finally removed the last of Sam's shirts and the wound that Sam had obviously tried to hide revealed itself. A sickness rose from his stomach as he took in the vivid, ugly gash that rent it's way up Sam's side. He struggled to prevent a return of the blackness as he took in the claw that protruded from his baby brothers body. Pushing back the sickness, and his fears Dean wordless began to move; his own wounds forgotten as he helped his father in tending to Sam, all the while wondering if they should have just packed Sam into the car and retreated to the nearest hospital.

He fought with his father once they had finished, his own Winchester stubborn streak settling in, forcing the older man into submission as he refused to back down, refused to leave Sam's side; settling himself as comfortably as possible next to his brother on the too small bed, needing the closeness, to feel Sam's chest rise, to feel his soft breaths against his skin, before he would relax and succumb to the fatigue that wanted to consume him.

He woke groggily every few hours or so, as his father forced pills into his hand; his eyes seeking out his sibling every time, hoping that maybe this time his brother's eyes would finally open, and he would be able to apologize for the hurt he had caused Sam, worry and regret replacing the hope each time though as Sam continued to sleep on. Pink hues filtered through the threadbare curtains, signaling to Dean that the day was almost over as he awoke on his own for the first time, more alive and with it then he had been previously, automatically seeking out his sibling once again, his heart aching that little bit more as he witnessed once again the closed eyes of his brother. He carefully, with his Dad's help, began to maneuver his way from under Sam's comforting weight; the fears that had been ever present since he had learned of Sam's injury returning as he took in his still and silent sibling. He turned fearful eyes his fathers way as he accepted the glass of water that was pressed into his hands, no words spoken to begin with, none needed to be as they communicated their concerns through looks alone, only after he had gratefully accepted the water that was pressed into his hands, gulping down the cool liquid rapidly to ease his parched throat, did Dean finally speak.

"Has he woken at all yet." Dean asked, yet already knowing the answer, there was after all no way Sam would have woken without his knowledge, at getting his fears answered he asked. "Do you think we should take him to the hospital?"

"You know we can't do that Dean. What about child services?"

"I know, but he's been asleep so long, what if he's. . . . . . . ."

"He'll be fine Dean." John replied to Dean's unspoken words. "His body is just mending itself. He'll wake up when he's ready." His heart broke as he listened to Dean's next whispered words, the mumbling barely audible.

"I just want to tell him I'm sorry."

"Me too son, me too." Dean turned away from his fathers gaze then, not wanting the older man to see the tears that threatened to fall from his stinging eyes. He coughed to clear his throat before slowly clambering to his feet. "I'm gonna take a shower." Not expecting an answer he continued on towards the bathroom, accepting the plastic bag that was thrust his way.

Striped bare, the bag taped securely in place, he turned on the water and waited for it to heat up, his gaze wandering towards the mottled glass of the small mirror where his own guilt filled features stared harshly back at him. He shook his head to clear away all the negative thoughts, turning his gaze back towards the shower and the steam that now billowed out from behind the curtain. Stepping into the tub he leaned his hands against the cool tiles, allowing his head to drop to his chest, the hot spray easing the knots that had congregated in his shoulders, his thoughts drifting back to the previous nights hunt, to his Dad and brother arguing, to the vicious words he himself had shot at his brother, the fight one too many for him to take. He closed his eyes, as he remembered the hurt that shone from his brothers gaze as he spoke the words, but it was no use Sam's doe like blue greens still attacked him, cutting deep into his heart. How could he have done what he did? How could he have turned against Sam like that? As he allowed the tears to mingle with the water that ran down his face, Dean could only hope that somehow he could get Sam to forgive him.

He toweled carefully, all too aware of the pain that would ignite if he caught any of his wounds. He paused as he thought he heard voices coming from the other room, his heart soaring as Sam's tired and groggy voice made it's way through the thin walls, making his toweling off all the more hurried as he rushed to see his sibling awake. He stopped on the threshold between the two rooms as he listened to his Dad's words, thankful that for once his father had put aside his stoic front and given Sam what he needed; he wanted so desperately to rush over and add his own apology, after hearing his fathers, stopping only as he watched Sam's eyes drift tiredly closed, and heard his siblings whispered out question. "Is D'n 'kay?"

Dean stood rooted to the spot, his eyes brimming with tears. He couldn't believe it, how could Sam even think about him after he had treated his brother so badly? He had to put things right. None of this was Sam's fault, and he had to somehow let him know. He managed to move his leaden feet, forcing them to walk him over to the bed. Sitting down on the opposite side to his father, he took Sam's lax hand in his own and started to gently stroke the back. "I'm so sorry Sam." He whispered, thankful that their Dad rose and made an excuse to leave allowing him the time to apologize in private. "I didn't mean the things I said, I just got tired of all the fighting and bickering, but I shouldn't have said what I said, or hurt you that way. You didn't deserve that." Dean stiffened slightly as he felt, sensed, Sam awaken once more although his brother's eyes remained closed, knowing that he needed to finish though he added. "I hurt you Sam with what I said, I could see it in your eyes but I walked away from you. I shouldn't have done that. I should have made things right there and then, if I had maybe all this wouldn't have happened. God, I could have lost you Sam. I could have lost you and you would have gone thinking I hated you." He rubbed at the tears that spilled from Sam's eyes, and choked back a sob of his own as he added. "I love you Sammy, always remember that."

Brushing errant brown strands from Sam's still too warm forehead, his hand moved to cup Sam's cheek resting there for a while before moving to his shoulder, clasping it reassuringly, Dean spoke once again. "Go back to sleep Sam, we'll talk more later." He knew that they probably wouldn't, that once Sam was well enough they would no doubt move on straight away, the whole incident pushed aside in the haste to reach the next hunt, but Dean knew it was what Sam needed to hear. As he rose to get dressed he stilled as Sam's hand grasped his, his brother's tired voice barely a whisper as he spoke. "I love you too Dean. . . . . . . . . It's okay. . . . . . . .I'm okay. . . . . . . . . We're okay." He watched as Sam, turned as best he could so that he rested facing Dean's bed, watched as Sam's hand dropped to the sheets, his breathing evening out, sleep consuming him once again, and he knew Sam was right, they would be okay. They may fight, disagree, argue even, but they would always find a way to get back the bond that grew strong between them.

The End.

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Thanks again for reading, I hope that you enjoyed the little add on. For those of you reading Hidden, I will be back soon with an update. Peanut x**


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